


Demon

by Chris_White



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angels, Cryptid Hunting, Demons, Hunay, M/M, Modern Day, Shiro's getting more white hairs, a pretty soft demon, brief hunay, excited keith, klance, lance is a demon, mostly shenanigans in a house
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2019-03-20 13:54:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13719105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chris_White/pseuds/Chris_White
Summary: Keith discovers a listing for a nice house that he can actually afford. There's one catch. The current owner claims it's possessed by a demon.Yeah, right! But ... maybe there's cryptids?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CLDJendis66](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CLDJendis66/gifts).



> For Bonding Moments: A Klance Zine for Clare

Keith stared at the listing and immediately doubted his eyesight. Maybe he needed glasses. No way in hell was a house of that size and location this cheap!

Obviously, it was a trap. If he went he’d end up meeting some scammer who sold him a place they didn’t even own. Still, he was tired of moving every few months because asshole landlord decided to sell, or renovate, or have their kids move into the apartment he’d just settled into.

He worried his lip with his teeth for a moment, instincts saying both to run and to check it out. _If_ he was going to check this out, though, he needed someone to be his impulse control, or he might do something foolish like hand a bunch of money to a scammer or knock the scammer out.

Sighing, Keith picked up his phone and texted the ad link to the only person capable of doing the job. A couple of minutes later, his phone repeatedly lit up and beeped like a Vegas slot machine as messages came in rapid-fire.

Shibro: That’s obviously a scam. Or a serial killer.

Shibro: Seriously, don’t do it Keith. Don’t you dare.

Shibro: Wait, I didn’t mean to say dare! THIS IS NOT A DARE. DON’T YOU DARE.

Shibro: No, Keith, no!

Shibro: Wait, are you already there? 

Shibro: OMG I’m turning on the stalker app and coming to get you before you get axe murdered. 

As Keith watched Shiro spiral out of control, a grin started to split his face. He wrote Mr. Iverson, the current owner, to tee up an appointment. At the very least he’d get huge entertainment value out of Shiro’s going into full Protector mode. Before he could even say anything to Shiro — his phone was still buzzing with more incoming texts — he received an email from Iverson offering a few times to come by.

Good thing Keith knew Shiro’s schedule. He cackled as he set the appointment and then copied and pasted the details into his brother’s chat window. At the worst they’d get cardio in from running from an axe-wielding maniac. At best he might actually get a house cheap enough that he could afford the mortgage payments. 

Shiro’s despondent keysmash response made it totally worthwhile.

###

They pulled into the driveway, which Keith noted had plenty of room for another vehicle next to Shiro’s “I’m trying to both impress and terrify you” tricked out black SUV. Honestly, Keith was surprised that Shiro hadn’t run out and bought and mounted gun racks and movie prop rifles to complete the look, just for this occasion.

“All right,” said Shiro, glaring at the house like it had personally offended him. “We find out what this joker is up to. No giving him money. No signing any papers. Don’t give him any personal information like your address or phone number.”

“He already has my email,” said Keith, struggling to keep his poker face when Shiro’s eye twitched at the reminder.

“Guess you’ll have to change it if this goes badly.” 

Keith rolled his eyes. “I can’t! All of my work contacts have that email. I wouldn’t get any more freelance gigs and I’d be forced to move in with you.”

A man stomped out of the house, his leathery face in a scowl that had Keith impressed. And he thought _he_ had resting bitch face! This guy had resting mass murderer face. Somehow it worked with the stained suit.

“You boys gonna gossip in the driveway all day or come in?” 

Keith and Shiro flinched back as the guy punctuated every word with a violently jabby finger. 

“If there’s animal heads on the walls we’re out of here,” Shiro grumbled, stepping out of the car.

Wondering where in the hell that came from, Keith got out too, “Hey, I’m Keith, the one who wrote you. This is my brother, Shiro.”

He didn’t have to look to know that Shiro’s eye was twitching again. What, was he supposed to try for fake names at this point?

“Iverson,” the gruff man said. “Do you want me to give you the tour or do you want to look around on your own?”

He looked like he’d rather be drowning puppies than spend another moment with them. Keith opened his mouth to say they’d do it on their own.

“Why don’t you show us the place?” Shiro said before Keith could speak. 

Iverson huffed and started the tour of the outside. Keith wasn’t into gardening or landscaping, but he liked what Iverson had done with the place right away. It was attractive but didn’t look like it required a ton of maintenance. There was a nice back deck where Keith could imagine an outdoor reading nook and long conversations with his brother. The paint looked pretty new, too, and the house was even red, his favorite color. There was even a shed out back that it looked like Iverson used for projects. 

In Keith’s head, he was already bringing an electrician in to beef up the power for his kilns. He made most of his living off of testing late-stage development tech toys — he was kind of legendary for his ability to break products that had survived all rounds of testing with no problems — but his passion was his pottery. 

While Keith was drooling, he almost missed that Iverson was leading Shiro inside. Keith hurried to catch up, not missing the stink eye Shiro gave him for falling behind and leaving him vulnerable to a horrifying death.

The moment they stepped into the house, Keith _had_ to have it. Sure, the decor said grumpy old man, but the hardwood floors and natural light gave it an airy, yet slightly oppressive feeling. He assumed that the oppressive part was Iverson, who was gruffly gesturing at the new, stainless steel appliances like they’d stolen his car and dumped it over a cliff. 

As they moved through the place, though, Keith started noticing something else. There were awards and plaques everywhere. “Favorite Teacher” was on a lot of them, marked by the school year. There were championship sports trophies naming him as coach in wrestling, football, and basketball; framed, gushing letters from students; and there was even.a teaching lifetime achievement award.

Keith couldn’t for the life of him reconcile the inspiring man on these walls with the way Iverson was throwing doors open like he wanted to break them off the hinges, curtly saying helpful things like, “This is a bedroom.”

By the end of the tour, Keith regretted coming. He loved this place. Absolutely loved it, for its potential to make an awesome home. Yet, even with hearts in his eyes he could see the flashing warning sign of the price.

They ended the tour back outside, in the front yard. Iverson crossed his arms and stared at them, grim-faced. “Any questions? You want the place?”

“Yeah, we have a huge question,” said Shiro, eying Iverson like the man might snap at any second. “Why are you selling this place so cheap? You could easily list it for twice the price you’re at now.”

Iverson took a step toward Shiro, hands balled into fists. “Why does it matter? I just want rid of it!”

Before Keith could interject, Shiro took a step toward Iverson, puffing up his chest. Keith had the sudden bad feeling that instead of _him_ getting in a fistfight with the guy, _Shiro_ was going to do it for him.

“Because this has to be a scam! You don’t even own this place, do you? I should call the police!”

Iverson blinked, for once not looking 100% ready to throttle a whole basket of kittens. “Is that your only concern? Choose your real estate agent and we’ll do this all through proper channels.”

Keith felt a dangerous thing bloom in his chest. Hope.

“But WHY?” Shiro threw his hands in the air. “This makes NO SENSE!”

Iverson looked left and right, squinting at the two of them, and Keith knew this was gonna be good. The flame of hope still fluttered.

Iverson leaned in, less menacing now. “I have to list it on the disclosure anyway, so I might as well tell you. That damned house is haunted by a demon. I can’t take it anymore! I’ve already bought my retirement trailer.”

 _What the fuck happened to this guy?_ Keith somehow managed not to let his jaw fall to the floor. “A demon? What does it do? Blood on the walls and stuff?”

Shiro gave him an exasperated look.

“What? I’m curious!” As much as he loved conspiracy theories, he wasn’t one for religion, so demons didn’t scare him. Actually, it would be exciting if there was a cryptid behind the demon thing!

The man’s expression darkened. “He’s a demon. He makes your life a living hell. Now, do you want the place or not?”

Keith looked at Shiro, who at this point looked just plain bewildered. Before his brother could pull himself together and reject the place, Keith offered his hand to shake. “Yeah, I want it, but only if we go through a proper realtor and I’m 100% certain this isn’t a scam.”

Iverson grinned. Kind of. The expression came out more as an unnerving grimace. He grasped Keith’s hand and shook on it with a bone-crushing grip. Keith did his best not to whimper.

“Excellent. Have the realtor call me as soon as possible and I’ll get everything to them.”

A thought popped into Keith’s head. He’d still have to borrow from Shiro to get the place. It would be great if he could spare his brother the burden. “But, you know … If I have to pay for exorcisms and all that stuff and you don’t want to handle it, I’d like to see the price lowered to cover those expenses.”

Shiro shot him a glare. Keith ignored him.

“I’ll work that out through the realtor,” said Iverson. “Time to start packing.” 

Iverson flashed a somewhat manic smile, then turned and went inside without another word.

They were silent for a moment. Finally, it was Shiro who spoke first. “Keith … you’re taking advantage of a crazy old man.”

Keith swallowed, guilt making his throat feel thick. “I … I guess I am.”

Shiro sighed and then squeezed his shoulder. “We’ll tell the realtor our concerns. Maybe they’ll have some advice. It is a great house, though.”

Keith stared at it for a moment longer. If everything went well, this would soon be _his_. His fingers already itched to start making it a home.

“I’ll ask around at work and see if anyone has a solid realtor they recommend,” said Shiro, obviously aware that Keith worked from home like the hermit he was, and therefore had very few friends that he’d actually met in person, versus over the computer. Any realtors he knew probably lived halfway around the world. 

“And maybe arrange for a bomb squad sweep,” Shiro added with a mutter.

“Okay.” Despite the guilt, Keith grinned. This place was gonna be his. He just knew it.

###

In just two weeks, everything was done. The realtor had gone above and beyond on due diligence to make sure this was a legitimate sale, and also to consult a lawyer and even a mental health advocate with their concerns. In the end, Iverson had knocked $10,000 off the price and had given the realtor his new address, which she double-checked was a real trailer and paid off so they’d know they weren’t leaving a crazy old man homeless.

Keith had signed the papers with guilt, but he _had_ signed them. There was no way he could afford another place even half as nice on what he made from work and pottery, especially since it was so hard to get loans when self-employed. In just a month after meeting Iverson, he was on the doorstep with Shiro, a U-haul parked in the driveway since Keith had a couple of pieces of furniture left to him by his mom, and would carry them on his back to the house if he had to.

He took out the keys and grinned, turning them in the lock. “Honey, I’m home!”

Shiro chuckled and elbowed him in the side. “I’m still in shock. I hope Iverson is gonna be okay.”

“If he thinks this place has a demon,” said Keith, “then hopefully moving will help him feel free.”

“Or it’ll follow him …” Shiro waggled his fingers in the universal cartoon method of saying “spooky.”

Keith grimaced. He hoped not. Iverson seemed like he’d been a nice guy once. “Anyway, you ready to lift that sold oak desk out of the U-Haul and get it into my new office?”

Groaning, Shiro shrugged. “Might as well get it over with. Everything else will be easier from there.”

Settling the desk into its new spot brought things really crashing in on Keith. This was his house. HIS HOUSE. He did a giddy little dance, ignoring Shiro’s look of mock concern, and headed out to bring in more stuff. 

Time to make himself a home.

###

Lance had worried that his deal with Iverson would end up sucking, but so far this was better than even he’d imagined. This guy had “fresh meat” written all over him, and he was hot, too. Bonus!

He also had a little bit of dark in him. Taking advantage of Iverson’s panic to get out, indeed. The entity knew he could work with that for sure.

After a few weeks of allowing smooth sailing to lull the guy into a false sense of confidence, Lance knew it was time for his work to begin. Keith had arranged everything to his liking, at least the stuff he’d unpacked, and seemed kind of fussy about having certain things just so. He seemed particularly pleased with and attached to a brass lion figurine on his desk.

So, while Keith was asleep, Lance nudged it a few inches to the left with a grin. The fun had begun.


	2. Chapter 2

At first Keith thought he’d misremembered. Maybe he’d forgotten where he’d placed his mother’s most famous piece — her lion figurine. Maybe he’d spaced when he went to put his shampoo on the shower caddy, and instead placed it on the built-in shower seat/shelf thing. 

His bags of clay were another matter. They’d been in a storage room, going nowhere near his apartment, and he wouldn’t have brought them inside. As far as he remembered they’d gone directly into the shed. Given that he’d told Shiro at least ten times that all pottery-related stuff went in the shed, he found it hard to believe that Shiro would have done it, though his was his brother whose lame dad jokes also could evolve into lame dad pranks.

Shiro laughed when Keith asked. “Why would I have put a bag of clay in your bathroom? It’s not like you use it for kitty litter.”

Unfortunately, that response left Keith with disturbing images of a tub full of clay for kitty litter and no cat. Though, the implications were even more disturbing. Shiro was still chuckling when he hung up, the bastard.

“Hmm,” Keith mused, hands on his hips. His thoughts drifted toward Mr. Iverson, but he shook his head. “Demons … just no.” Plus, what demon would bother with this level of lame stuff? 

Brownies, kobolds, pixies … World folklore was full of tiny makers of mischief that settled into people’s homes. Keith pondered for a moment and then grinned. Time to do some research. He hadn’t lived in this house long enough to piss anyone off, he didn’t think, but maybe just moving in had done that. Or they weren’t distinguishing between him and Iverson.

Time to make some plans.

###

The next day, Lance could only manage a befuddled blink as he watched his new target. Keith had sat himself on the floor with a bag and was rummaging through it with a disturbing glint in his eyes. Maybe Lance was too late and another demon had already driven him mad?

He started getting steamed at the soul poaching, causing a the nearest houseplant’s leaves to brown on the edges facing him, but then Keith began to speak.

“I’m not sure who’s living here with me, so I’m trying to cover all my bases.” Keith cleared his throat, then bit his lip nervously. “I apologize if that causes any offence. Okay, here goes …”

Lance told himself that the word adorable didn’t belong in a demon’s mind. It really didn’t.

Keith took a deep breath. “My name is Keith and I’m the new owner of this house. I was hoping we can start fresh. I’m not experienced in dealing with little folk so please bare with me.”

He pulled out a little, doll-sized suit, complete with little shoes and a little tie. “If you’re brownies, then I hope you like this gift. You don’t have to leave my home, but I thought maybe if you’d been bothered into becoming boggarts, this might make you happier?”

Lance facepalmed. Yup, this guy was nuts.

Keith pulled out a bottle of beer and … a plastic thimble? “If you’re a goblin — or do you prefer kobold? — I wasn’t sure what to get you. Since you’re German I picked up a good German beer for you.”

He somehow managed to pour a bit of beer into the thimble -- which fortunately had no holes -- without spilling any on the floor. It occurred to Lance he’d just missed a golden moment to mess with Keith, though if he stuck to his plan he’d continue doing things when Keith wasn’t around for a while before establishing more direct contact.

“Maybe we can come to some kind of agreement. I don’t mind some mischief but I’d like to set some off-limit areas? Plus, no matter what you are, if you mess with my kiln you could really get hurt.”

Yet again, Keith turned to his bag. “If you’re a pixie, I didn’t see anything on what you liked either. Since you’re probably from Devon or Cornwall — did you come over with someone who came to the new world? — I thought you’d like a pastie.”

Keith pulled a half circle pastry from his bag. It was still hot, and the scent of seasoned beef danced in Lance’s nose. Man, he wanted that. He really, really wanted it.

Lance grinned, suddenly having an idea.

As Keith began setting out the next offering, Lance fidgeted, seriously hoping Keith would be done soon. He was hungry.

###

The next morning, Keith went into the living room, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes. All traces of morning fog vanished, though, when he saw the state of things. The pastie was gone. In fact, every food or drink item he’d offered was gone. So was the thimble he’d left the beer in and, basically, everything else except for the beer bottle, which was now empty. 

His excitement grew with each discovery. Once he stopped chanting YES, YES, YES in his head — he didn’t want to freak out his housemates — he picked up the beer bottle to put it with the recycling.

It rattled. Since it was colored glass, he took it into the kitchen to look inside through the strong lighting there, and gasped. Inside was the thimble, the doll suit and accessories, the crystal, and the penny. While some of the things were small enough to easily drop through the bottle’s neck, others weren’t.

Keith looked around the house to find the best lighting to capture this in a photo. What an amazing thing to have for his cryptid blog — his other hobby!

“Thank you, whoever you are,” Keith said, his face feeling like it might split from his huge grin. “You’re AWESOME.”

###

Lance snorted but puffed up. Yes. Yes, he was.

And his soul target was absolutely not cute in his excitement. He definitely didn’t get even cuter each time Lance stole something from the beer bottle and put it elsewhere in the house, especially in locked rooms and other places where it got harder to explain how they got there. Especially for the bigger items that would have required breaking the bottle to get them out.

After two weeks of this and getting Keith to elicit a squeal of delight at finding the little suit folded and set up next to its accessories, along with a tiny briefcase that Lance had conjured, Lance realized that he’d gotten himself off track. The only way to count this was driving Keith crazy would be to say he’d gone nuts with joy. 

“Don’t get distracted, Lance,” Lance said to himself as he watched Keith sleep — he was a demon, he was supposed to be creepy. “Get your head in the game.”

Keith twitched in his sleep, as though somehow hearing what Lance was saying. Lance resisted the urge to pet his hair.

What the hell was wrong with him? Lance resolved at that point that he had to refocus on making the human fall. If nothing else, if Lance still found Keith attractive as a demon — and he could definitely imagine Keith as a hot demon — he could make his move then.

For now he just had to be strong.


	3. Chapter 3

Lance was not strong. He was watching Keith work, trying to figure out how to actually disturb this weird guy, but instead kept getting distracted. For one thing, he couldn’t quite figure out what Keith actually did for work. It involved a computer and other equipment arriving in the mail. Keith was currently fussing over the latest arrival.

“Why?” Keith groaned. “Why would you do it this way???”

After watching this process a few times, Lance was wondering if the demonic community could learn something from technology and electronics companies. 

“If any of you little house buddies gets in a bad mood, I’ll be happy to give you directions to this company’s head office. I’d even set up a nice cushy box for you to travel in and send you by express courier with a big FRAGILE label for your safety.”

That was another thing Lance was trying to get used to. It was absolutely not adorable that Keith kept talking to his fictional house buddies. Given that Lance was his actual, real, totally alive and not fictional house buddy, though, that also meant Keith was also talking to him. As amusing as it would be to go and terrorize some corporate HQ, he’d get his ass kicked by the higher-ups for not only going off-mission, but also for doing favours for someone who hadn’t offered the requisite sacrifices, rituals, and oaths.

It was tempting, though.

Keith returned to typing, muttering to himself in techno gibberish. Lance had been assigned to Iverson for so long that he was a bit behind on technology stuff, given the man’s preference for old school methods. Of course, Iverson’s technophobia might have something to do with Lance sabotaging every piece of new technology he bought, but that was a price totally worth paying.

Grinning, Lance remembered a particularly juicy moment where Iverson had just finished entering all of his students’ grading information into a complex spreadsheet. Lance didn’t need to know anything about computers to understand that messing with the power supply could have some interesting results. Namely, a computer meltdown, and then an Iverson meltdown that resulted with a noise complaint to the police, a computer in the trash, and the man purchasing stacks of paper notebooks that would last him the rest of eternity.

Unfortunately, poor Lance was redundant here, since Keith was so used to being tormented by tech. Worse, Keith actually knew how to fix it, so it was just a minor inconvenience when things went wrong. 

He’d have to find another sensitive area to poke at. In the meantime, he was bored. He left the room and went to the growing collection of little people items Keith had been stocking in a corner that was hidden by his couch. The special space was looking pretty comfy, and that gave Lance another idea. Since that space was actually for him, he might as well redecorate it to his preferences, right?

A nagging voice in the back of his head — sounding disturbingly like the Lady Haggar — pointed out that doing this wouldn’t get him anywhere toward his goal of fully corrupting his target. 

“Fuck it.” Lance did it anyway …

Later that night, even though Lance was watching as Keith went to check on his growing tiny people home, he still jumped as Keith went “WOAH!”

With wide eyes, Keith dropped down onto his hands and knees. Lance had changed everything to shades of blue, and even changed the shapes of some of the furniture to more plush, comfortable, and ornate. He admired his handwork along with Keith, preening at all of Keith’s “oohs” and “aahs.”

“Please,” said Keith, jumping up and rushing to his computer. “Please, let this be in the video!”

“Good luck,” muttered Lance, grinning. All demons in this modern age had it drilled into their heads how to avoid their antics appearing on cameras, even cameras so cleverly hidden they had no idea they were being recorded.

He leaned against the wall next to Keith’s office window, noting that the leaves were starting to turn with the arrival of fall. Iverson hadn’t been a pumpkin spice person so Lance had never gotten to try it, despite constantly hearing about it on the TV and radio. Hopefully Keith was into it.

“Nooooooo!” Keith wailed, and then leaned down to bang his head on his desk. “Why are you guys so good at this? How many presents do I have to give you before you’ll give me proof????”

Ooh. Lance grinned even wider. He could totally work with this.

###

“So, Shiro,” Keith said into his phone, “I could use an extra hand.”

“Oh? What’s up?”

“Well, I’m trying to set up some gear.”

Lance perched eagerly on the back of the couch. When Shiro came over the hotness quotient house became almost unbearable since Lance couldn’t interact with them yet. It was a delicious sort of misery, though, that he always looked forward to.

“What kind of gear?” 

The curiosity in Shiro’s voice was clear to Lance’s supernatural hearing. Lance watched Keith worry at his lower lip like he always did when he got uncertain or self-conscious.

“Uh,” said Keith, looking up at the ceiling like he was offering a prayer. 

Lance snickered.

“Just some equipment. Don’t worry, it’s just in the house. No slogging around in the bush.”

“Thank God,” laughed Shiro. “Sure. Why not? I’ll head over in a bit.”

“Thanks.” Keith didn’t seem very relieved. “See you then.”

Lance definitely looked forward to watching Keith explain what he was up to with Shiro. Maybe this would drive a wedge between the brothers so Lance could bond tighter with Keith and follow him out of the house. 

While they waited, Keith fussed with the scopes and specialized cameras, reading the instructions and fiddling with their settings. He finally seemed to have relaxed, but tensed up again when Shiro’s key turned in the front door’s lock.

“So, what are we doing?” Shiro looked over the assorted electronics. “Is this for work.”

When Keith bit his lip, Lance could tell he was weighing the lie versus the truth. There were advantages for Lance with either decision. 

“TherearelittlesupernaturalpeopleinmyhouseandIneedproofsinceIcannevercatchthemintheact,” Keith gushed out while staring at the carpet, digging his toes into it.

Shiro stared at him for a good, long moment. “We’re opening all the windows and I’m calling someone to do a carbon monoxide inspection, and to look for any other emissions. I should have thought of this before you moved in.”

Keith lifted his gaze, looking anywhere but at Shiro. “I did have a full house inspection, though.”

“They must have missed something.” Shiro started texting someone.

“I’m not crazy,” Keith grumbled.

“Of course you’re not.” Shiro somehow managed to sound calm and almost soothing while Lance watched him search for the best testing service in town. “But after what we saw with Iverson I’m not taking any chances.”

Keith rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Just arrange what you’re gonna arrange and then help me set this up.”

“Might as well since I’m keeping an eye on you anyway.”

Lance crossed his arms in a pout. How was he supposed to drive a wedge by making Keith look crazy if big brother here was a freaking saint?

Keith just huffed and went back to preparing the equipment. It wasn’t until Shiro had called and somehow politely harassed the top inspector in town to come out in a few hours, that Lance had the pleasure of Keith having to show Shiro the tiny luxury home that was slowly forming in the back corner.

“So, uh, I’m not sure what they are, yet.” Keith scratched the back of his head, looking self-conscious again. “I have a few ideas, I’ve been trying things from different mythologies and folklore to see what they like.”

Oh yeah, Lance realized. I need to make him lean toward pixie. He really wanted more of those Cornish pasties. 

“What things?” Shiro asked warily.

“Uh, foods. Drinks. Gifts. Furniture.” Keith’s face was slowly going pink under Shiro’s scrutiny. 

It was a good look on him. Lance wanted to see that more.

Shiro didn’t even attempt to hide the doubt in his tone. “Furniture?” 

With a nervous chuckle, Keith got down on the floor and pointed out the hidden corner. Shiro got down with him and let out a sharp intake of breath. Lance could feel the worry churning around the older brother. Maybe now Shiro would do something to piss Keith off enough to drive a wedge.

“Why should they have to sit and sleep on the floor?” Keith weakly protested.

Lance cackled as he watched Shiro fight to maintain his poker face, his jaw muscles jumping as he clenched his teeth shut. 

“Okay,” sighed Shiro, looking at his watch. “Where is the equipment?”

Boggling, Lance followed them to Keith’s office. Was Shiro going to say nothing? Or was he waiting for the inspectors to get there?

Of course, if Shiro knew what was really going on, Lance suspected he’d tuck his brother under his arm and run until he couldn’t anymore. He really had to figure out how to stop that from happening. Whether that was because he wanted to corrupt Keith or just liked being around him, Lance wasn’t sure.

###

Keith had regrets. Sitting by the window, he could see Shiro arguing with the inspector out front. There was nothing wrong with the air, water, or any other environmental factors in the house. Part of Keith was relieved, of course, as it would have been so disappointing to discover that his cryptid housemate(s) weren’t real, but Shiro had looked so somber at the pronouncement that the house was safe that Keith was nervous about what might come next.

Rather than stewing about his potentially impending doom, he went to his office to see how his equipment was doing. He’d gotten a great bonus check lately so he’d ordered a wide range of products. Some of them were from beyond niche inventors, but he was desperate. What was a bit of cash when he had a chance to prove his cryptids really existed?!

The front door slammed. Keith flinched. 

“Keith!”

“Yeah?” Keith called back, focusing his attention on his computer and getting all of the software running properly.

“Let’s get out of here. Why don’t you spend the night at my place?” Shiro stepped into the room, leaning against the doorframe. 

A glance told Keith that Shiro was doing his best to hide his worry. Somehow that felt worse than getting the big brother lecture he was expecting. 

“This house is safe,” Keith pointed out, doing his best to be calm. “I’m perfectly fine here.”

He could practically hear Shiro grinding his teeth. 

“I’ll take you out to dinner,” Shiro offered. “Pick your place.”

Keith opened his mouth to refuse, but then grinned, turning to face his brother. Shiro needed a distraction and as his little brother, Keith had many of them to provide. Even better if it got him his favorite food for free!

“Oh no.” Shiro held up his hands, backing away. “Not there.”

“I have a hankering,” said Keith, still grinning, “for some TexMexEan.”

“Who mixes Tex-Mex and Korean food?!?!” 

“Koreans who live or grew up in Texas?” Keith did his best innocent blink.

“We’re third generation American Japanese and grew up in California.” Shiro deadpanned, groaning. “Fine. If it gets you away from this … this insanity …”

Something warm bubbled up in Keith. Shiro could have easily turned out overbearing after their parents died, being former military and six years older. Instead, he’d done his best to balance being a parent, a brother, and a friends. As far as Keith was concerned, he’d done great, but he wasn’t telling Shiro that. It might go to his head.

Instead, Keith cracked his knuckles and saved everything he was doing to work on later. “Bulgogi burritos, here I come!”

Shiro made a gagging noise. “If you ever try making sushi burritos I’m committing you.”

Keith pondered. “Could just wrap one of those big sushi rolls in a tortilla.”

Shiro groaned, and Keith grinned. At least after this, Shiro should lighten up for a while. Maybe long enough for Keith to get proof and make his brother eat crow.

###

Lance began plotting immediately. He wanted to try this TexMexEan food. If Keith didn’t bring some home, he’d definitely have to step up his game so he could following his target out of the house. 

Later that night, though, Keith left out an offering of leftovers for his imaginary friends. Lance could barely wait until Keith had left the room for certain before chowing down. This stuff was heaven — hah, Heaven! The little people definitely needed to leave Keith a sign that they loved TexMexEan and wanted more. He wouldn’t even have to break the rules. Small food sacrifices totally counted toward granting small favors.

Internal demonic crisis averted.


	4. Chapter 4

A few weeks later Keith stared at his monitor, trying to understand what he was seeing in the footage from the cryptid detection equipment’s results. He’d started receiving little gifts in return for certain things he did. His repetitive diet — he needed to do something about that — made it easyish to see that some of the gifts were responses to certain foods. Cuban and Mexican take-out or leftovers seemed to get the best reactions. TexMexEan was another favorite. They also seemed oddly excited about grilled cheese, of all things. Maybe it’s because he liked it with hot sauce.

Other reasons for gifts were harder to match with a pattern. He did seem to get one in the middle of each of Shiro’s visits. Whether his cryptids were taunting Shiro or trying to make Keith feel better about Shiro’s continued worry, it was hard to say, but Keith had hidden his little pile of little trinkets in a decorative box he’d picked up. It held everything from little shiny buttons to a little top hat Keith definitely never gave them, and even a small nugget of what seemed like some form of goldish metal. 

His favorite gift, though, was on his wrist. Touching it always left him idly daydreaming, wondering how many of his little cryptids worked together to weave the intricate friendship bracelet. It was woven with silky threads in red — his favorite color — and a blue that complemented it and the remade little furniture perfectly. In some parts the work was so fine that the colors blended together to make purple.

He smiled, stroking it. When Shiro asked about it, Keith had claimed one of his online friends sent it. His brother had seemed pleased to hear Keith was still talking to other -- potentially sane -- people online, no doubt even happier that Keith hadn’t mentioned his “project” since the day of the inspection.

The care with which the bracelet was made spoke to Keith of affection. Had he finally made friends with the little beings? That might be the last thing Shiro wanted to hear, but it made warmth bubble inside Keith.

“Thanks again, guys,” he murmured. “I love it.”

###

Lance felt … odd. He should be plotting his next step in dragging Keith down toward evil. Instead, he kept daydreaming about all of the friendship bracelets he could make until Keith had them running all the way up both arms. 

Something was definitely wrong with him.

“Something’s definitely wrong with you,” said a sharp, far too familiar voice from behind.

“AAAAAAAH!” Lance jumped and turned, leather wings bristling at the sight of Haggar before him.

She snorted, glancing toward where Keith was looking around in confusion. “You’re getting sloppy, Lanceil. Very sloppy.”

Lance bit his tongue before correcting Her on his modern name. Instead, he found himself scrambling for excuses. “He’s an odd one, your Highness. Very difficult to spook or upset.”

“I can think of a few ways.” She deigned to kneel down on the floor and look at the tiny luxury corner. “Though perhaps you’ve pushed him more toward madness than I thought.”

Demons didn’t sweat — Hell would be very slippery and gross if they did — but Lance felt like his body was trying. If she destroyed Keith’s little people paradise, it would break Keith’s heart, and Lance’s powers wouldn’t be up to the task of putting the village back into place. Yet, he might get reassigned or banished from the mortal realm for centuries if he didn’t at least act like he was properly on the job. “What are my orders?”

“You already have your orders.” She stepped over to a piece of equipment, running a hand over it. “If you continue to be derelict on your duties, eventually, you will fall. Then you’ll no longer be my problem.”

Lance swallowed. “Demons can fall?”

Haggar turned to him, the fires of Hell burning in her eyes and singeing the edges of her hair. She flashed a smile so sharp it could cut glass. “I guess you’ll find out.”

“But what happens …”

She cocked her head, and grinned. “What an interesting visitor.”

Haggar vanished in a puff of sulphurous smoke. A moment later, the doorbell rang. Keith emerged from his office to answer but stopped, groaning and fanning the air in front of his face. “Oh man, did I leave an egg lying around or something? Or do I need to get this place checked for gas leaks again?”

Lance smirked. He was sure Shiro would love to have the place inspected again. Every single inch.

###

Fanning harder, Keith walked through the demonic haze and peeked outside. “Stupid kids, hitting the doorbell and then running.”

The doorbell immediately rang again. 

Blinking, Keith looked through the peephole once again, seeing no one. He opened the door anyway to find a kid with fluffy hair, glasses, and wearing a green hoodie. “Whatever you’re selling, I’m probably not interested in buying.”

He went to shut the door, but the kid wedged a foot into the doorway.

“Actually, you already bought what I was selling.” 

Light flashed across the kid’s glasses, and suddenly Keith wondered if opening the door was such a great idea. 

“You’ve got some very interesting readings. Interesting enough that I want to check them out further.”

As Keith struggled to catch up on context the kid pushed past him into the house like they owned the place. 

“Name’s Pidge.” The kid set down their backpack and starting rummaging through it. “I brought extra equipment. Where’s your village?”

Spotting the logo on the gear — a robotic dog head — everything clicked into place. “You’re Pidge of Pidge’s Cryptid Investigations!”

Pidge didn’t even look up. Instead, they pulled a little robot out of the backpack, turned it on, and set it down. “Rover, investigate.”

The robot did a little bark and set off.

“Uh,” said Keith, “i never told you about any of the readings.”

Pidge grinned, rifling further through their bag. “The gear is designed to send me any particularly interesting information.”

“That’s a little, uh,” Keith searched for the right word that might not get him knifed. Pidge seemed like they might carry a knife. He should know. He had a whole collection.

“Creepy? Invasive?” Pidge pulled out a laptop and some additional gear. “I’m an investigator. I investigate. My gear would cost a lot more if I didn’t use my customers as minions.”

That didn’t really make it okay, but Keith was too weirded out to argue. Plus, he was a little intrigued. “So, uh, What did you notice that I missed?”

Pidge grinned again. “I’ll show ya.”

As bizarre as this was, Keith found himself excited. Maybe Pidge could make progress where he hadn’t.

###

Lance was completely lost. He couldn’t stop obsessing over what happened when a demon fell — not to mention whether it was really possible — or whether Haggar was just messing with him. That meant he couldn’t follow the rapid-fire conversation between Keith and this Pidge person. On the downside, he wasn’t sure about this Pidge’s character and whether they’d end up pulling Keith down where Lance had avoided him going. On the upside, these two seemed like they were already becoming fast friends. Keith needed friends besides his brother and pretend roommates.

Every once in a while they’d cheer or gasp like they were sharing a brain. Nothing they said made sense, so Lance returned to his obsessing. Really, what was lower than a demon? Would he turn to dust and cease to exist? 

“Okay,” said Keith, pushing away from his computer. “Let’s get lunch.”

“You go get some. I’m fine,” said Pidge.

Keith eyed her, yet Lance only sensed sarcasm, no particularly dark thoughts. 

“Yeah, no. I’m not leaving you alone in my place.” Keith shut off the monitor, earning a grumble from Pidge. “Let’s get Cuban.”

There was something meaningful in the sudden stare between the two of them. Suddenly, Pidge grinned, and Lance felt a chill — which shouldn’t even be possible! 

“Yeah, let’s do that.” Pidge jumped up and off they went without another word.

“Great,” Lance mumbled. Since he hadn’t dragged Keith down at all he still couldn’t follow Keith off the property. That fact meant he was left to stew in his own juices, which was never a pretty thing for a demon.

Man, no one mindfucked a demon better than another demon. Damnit.

###

Lance had lost complete track of time — another easy thing to do as an eternal being — by the time he smelled the amazing aroma of rope vijeha. He teleported directly to the little people resort and waited for his offering, salivating as the sound of footsteps and voices drew closer.

“Okay, guys,” said Keith, sounding unusually chipper. “Here you go. Your favorite!”

If Lance had been in his right mind he’d have been suspicious right away. Instead, some of the weird cryptid knickknacks around the room started vibrating as he waited them to leave so he could eat.

Again, if he’d been in his right mind, he’d have noticed them noticing and grinning a secret grin between them. Instead, the moment he sensed them reaching Keith’s office — which had turned into a bizarre cryptid hunter base camp — he grabbed the dish and summoned a proper fork since Keith only left his little people little utensils. No way was he eating stuff with his hands. He was a demon but he wasn’t a mannerless heathen!

He’d barely dug in before he heard gasps and excited squeals. Good Lord in Hell, what were they doing now?

“Are those HORNS?!?!?!?!” 

Pidge’s exclamation knocked Lance hard back into the present. Crap! He looked around to see if one of them was peeking around a corner and had developed the ability to see him, but no one was there.

“Holy fuck! He does have horns!” Keith sounded, if possible, even more excited than Pidge.

“Dude, he’s not tiny either. And wings! Those are wings!” Pidge’s voice rose in pitch. “I think you’re living with a DEMON!”

Lance felt a little sick. Keith didn’t seem religious unless cryptid hunting counted as one. What if Keith drew a line at demons, though? 

Laughter sounded from Keith’s office. Keith’s laughter. Not expecting that reaction, Lance popped over there to find Keith almost giggling and Pidge staring at a strange, shimmery Lance-shaped image on one of the screens. 

“I don’t think so,” said Keith as he slowly calmed down. “If he’s a demon, he’s a pretty low-level one. I haven’t felt terrorized at all.”

“Hey!” Lance threw his hands up, sparks shooting from some random piece of equipment as he got pissed. 

Keith and PIdge both jerked, looking around the room suspiciously. 

“I think you pissed him off,” mused Pidge with an impish grin.

“Sorry buddy,” Keith said with the same gentle smile he often talked to Lance with, even if he didn’t realize that’s who he was talking to. “Did you not like being called a demon?”

“I think it was the low level part,” Pidge chuckled, looking over the piece of equipment. “I’m sure you’re a very powerful, yet friendly demon, my dude.”

Lance flared his wings. Now this was a matter of pride, damnit. “If I’m so low level, let’s see how you enjoy this.”

He went to the thermostat, fully aware of how Keith liked the temperature in the house. Lance bumped it just enough out of range to be uncomfortable, and with a nudge of “low level” demon magic, made sure that it would randomly return to that setting . Maybe Keith did deserve to be a little tormented, after all. 

Lance then returned to the office, sitting in a corner to sulk. While Keith looked over the equipment that had sparked, he and debated what their “demon” might be. It turned out that there were a lot of cryptid with horns and wings. As far as Lance was concerned, though, none of them were as cool as a full-fledged demon. 

Since he didn’t know Pidge as well, it took him a moment to decide her punishment. It took little effort to slightly scramble any footage of him she had, just enough that it would be too grainy for most to take her seriously. He also willed a haze around himself to mess up any new footage, too.

Sure, screwing with the footage would also upset Keith, but such was the price of betrayal.


	5. Chapter 5

Irritating Keith had the handy side effect of bonding Lance further to him. Finally, he could follow Keith off the property! He had to admit that he enjoyed continuing the “low level” torment. It also helped that the two had become thick as thieves, which meant that he was also doing the same to Pidge so often that he could soon also target her. 

Grocery bags broke. The two of them hit every red light. Any media — radio, TV, streaming, and anything else they tried — always went on the fritz right when they got to the part they were interested in, and rewinding did nothing. Lance’s favorite, though, was cutting off wifi right when they needed it most.

Lance was thoroughly enjoying his petty revenge. Even so, guilt became a regular companion. He missed Happy Keith. 

###

“I’m starting to understand why Iverson went so nuts,” Keith grumbled. “I think we really messed up.”

“Whatever he is, he’s definitely pissy.” Pidge hit Reload again and again, but the latest cryptid page she was trying to read only loaded part of the first paragraph. “We might need to make an offering.”

“That’s a bit difficult since we still don’t know what he is.” Keith sighed. “I already tried his favorite foods. He eats them but every time the containers leak a bit in my car or drip something on the carpet.”

“Hmm.” Pidge switched to the latest grainy footage of what might, sorta kinda show a being with horns. “Offer him a goat?”

Keith grimaced. “I’m not sacrificing an animal!”

“Goats are heavily associated with demonic lore,” said Pidge. “Maybe he’d like a goat pet.”

“Uh, no.” Even if his housemate liked the gift, Keith couldn’t imagine it going well for him. Images of a goat destroying his house and yard filled his head, between chewing things and pooping and peeing everywhere. Plus, if the gift displeased his housemate, or his housemate saw the goat as food, things could get really ugly.

“There has to be another way.” Keith drew his knees up to his chest, huddling on one of Pidge’s random chairs. 

Pidge flicked him on the forehead, which fucking hurt. “You were buddies before. Figure something out so we can get back to proving at least one cryptid exists.”

Keith rubbed his stinging forehead. “Why am I friends with you again?”

“Because we’re the same kind of crazy, and the same kind of obsessive hermit.”

Chuckling, Keith had to admit she had him there. “I’ll give it some thought. There has to be something.”

At least he hoped so. He missed how things were before. He wanted his buddy back.

###

Lance followed Keith around the mall, curious about the thoughtful look on his face whenever he examined something. An odd anticipation was building in his gut, and he was too intrigued to feel “low level” petty, so he was letting Keith shop in piece for once.

When Keith paused in front of an antique store, Lance peered inside. Keith pulled out his phone and Lance assumed he was going to call Pidge, but instead Keith started talking without even dialing.

“It’s obvious you’ve been coming out with me. I don’t know if you’re here now but I’m looking for a gift for you. If you like surprises, you should probably go.”

Lance cocked his head. He did like surprises. And presents. Especially surprise presents. So, when Keith stepped inside the antique store, Lance lingered in the hall. Malls weren’t as cool as the chaotic markets his targets used to frequent — he hoped Keith traveled to someplace that still used them sometime — but they were still interesting for watching people.

He wasn’t the only demon present. For that matter, there weren’t only demons, there were other supernatural beings there too. One child was being followed by a young angel. That had to be her first charge, since she was hovering like something terrible might happen at any moment. The angel gave him the stink eye, but he just winked and waved. Both of their bosses were very fussy about how Heaven/Hell conflict happened, and Lance certainly wasn’t assigned to corrupt or interfere with his Heavenly counterparts as long they didn’t get in between himself and his target.

Plus, he had his hands full with Keith. Who was still in the shop, doing who knew what.

Usually Lance saw little reason to resist temptation. After all, that was a benefit of being a demon, since they were temptation incarnate. Still, he continued to honor Keith’s request, observing the imps and spirits and other odd denizens of the mall. Every single one was attached to a person, whether a shopper, a shop owner, or an employee. If only humans knew that they really were the center of everything on this planet, and in this plane of existence. Their collective egos were big enough as it was. 

###

Keith’s chest buzzed with excitement as he finally got home. He’d had other errands to run, so he’d been forced to wait to offer his gift. Now that he could finally offer it, though, he was nervous. What if his cryptid companion didn’t like it? What if things got even worse?

Shaking his head, Keith turned on the equipment, then headed over to the corner with his tiny village. He was glad Pidge had gone home for a while. Even though they’d be watching the footage later, he wanted the privacy for now.

“I know you’re not little,” he said, getting down on the floor to sit cross-legged, “but I like to think that we’ve both enjoyed creating this little home.”

When nothing burst into flame or melted, Keith figured at the very least the demon -- or whatever he was -- didn’t violently disagree. “I’m sorry for laughing at you and calling you low-level. Can we be friends again?”

He opened the paper bag and began unwrapping the delicate piece of glass. All he’d had in mind when he stepped into the shop was to find something blue. When he saw the figurine, however, some primal instinct had drawn him toward it. 

Once he had it unwrapped, he placed it in the center of the little corner home area. The urge to run and watch his housemate’s reaction on the screens was strong, but Keith didn’t want to miss any reactions in person first, so he stayed put.

###

Lance’s hands trembled as he looked over the figurine. It was a glass dolphin, arched as though in mid-swim. The fins and tail were clear and colorless, but inside the body shades of blue traced the elegant lines of the creature, bringing to mind the place where deep and shallow water met together. More clear streaks emphasized the belly, head, and back, giving the creature a light, effortless feel.

Images swam through his mind’s eye. Sandy beaches. Sun beating down on laughing children.

He shook his head to clear it. Where the Hell had that come from?

Glancing at Keith, he found his target staring at the figurine with a gentle smile. Pink dusted his cheeks as he waited, starting to fidget, and Lance didn’t have the heart to drag things out for the usual torment. He held out his hand, willing a raised, mirrored platform beneath the dolphin. 

Keith’s delighted gasp and shining eyes threatened to undo him. “I’m so glad you like it!”

“Me too,” Lance murmured, wondering at this light, foreign feeling building in what should be his black as coal heart. He stroked a finger down the dolphin’s back. “Me too.”

Was this part of Falling? 

If so, maybe Falling wasn’t so bad.


	6. Chapter 6

Life went on. Keith’s spirits were high as things went back to normal. He and Pidge spent so much time prepping material for posting that he barely had time for the work that paid his bills, but he was managing to keep up. Barely, but managing.

Pidge, however, remained sullen. The traffic on their respective blogs had grown, but mostly consisted of people explaining away every finding. Some of the explanations were bull but Keith had to admit that some of them were clever and would have convinced him it was nothing if he didn’t know better.

“What’s the point of proof if no one believes us?” Pidge grumbled.

“We still know it’s real.” Keith shrugged. “We can’t change that they’re not ready to believe. All we can do is put the proof out there.”

“You’re far too relaxed about this.” They poked him with their pointy toes. “What happened, mighty cryptid hunter? A demon still not exciting enough for you?”

Keith snorted. “We still don’t know he’s a demon.” 

Pidge gave him a Look, and he had to admit that they were right. They’d been getting more and more detail on the images. His housemate had horns, wings, a tail, claws, hooves, and fangs. If the guy wasn’t a demon, he was some cryptid that inspired the belief in demons.

“I have to admit,” said Pidge, “he’s not a very demonic demon. Things are downright pleasant around here again.”

They both grimaced simultaneously, looking around to make sure nothing suddenly went screwy. Keith breathed a sigh of relief when nothing happened. “Careful.”

Pidge grinned. “Damn, was hoping to make things more exciting.”

“I seem to remember that past you was ready to sign away your soul for an hour with a computer that wasn’t malfunctioning,” Keith pointed out, grinning back.

“Past me was fueled by Red Bull and fury,” they responded with a dismissive wave of their hand. “Future me wants to do experiments to figure out what type of energy he was using to disrupt my tech.”

Keith chuckled. “Piss him off on your own time. I’m glad to have my friend back.”

At that, Pidge’s grin faltered. “You know that demons -- if that’s what he is -- aren’t big on friendship, right?”

It was Keith’s turn to respond with the wave of a hand. “It’s fine, Pidge. Whatever he is, we’re friends.”

“If you say so.”

“I say so,” he said, opening up the next video file. “Now, what footage do you want to use from this?”

Keith knew that wasn’t the end of it. Pidge might be skeptical on the religion front, but they’d been a little shaken as the evidence piled up. Now he had two people low-key worried about him -- every time Shiro came over, he checked on the little home and seemed pained that things had been upgraded further.

They just didn’t understand.

###

Lance was a bit worried about Keith and the way his brother and friend were so concerned for him. He didn’t want to drive a wedge between any of them, at least not anymore, but maybe there was no helping it. That would be too bad. He liked how animated and happy Keith had been at the height of he and Pidge working together.

Yet, Lance was also worried about himself. Sometimes his inner fire failed him and he actually felt … cold. How was that possible? It was happening more and more, along with other strange things. A couple of his claws had fallen off. He was starting to lose fur off of his legs.

Other times, he tried to use his powers, and nothing happened. His attempts to teleport failed more and more often. When he tried to manifest changes in Keith’s little home setup, either that failed too, or the changes only happened partway.

Lance was currently leaning against a wall while Keith relaxed in his reading nook. His target’s phone buzzed, and Keith checked it, sighing as he saw what was on the screen. “Looks like we’re gonna have company. Pidge really doesn’t get that I’m fine with having you here.”

Guilt soured in Lance’s stomach. He was Falling. What if after all of his he left Keith all alone?

Keith went back to his reading, so Lance went back to his stewing. Eventually, the doorbell rang, which was odd. Pidge usually just walked right into the house.

Setting his book down, Keith stood and headed toward the door. Lance followed. The closer they got, the stranger he felt, like the heavy chains of Hell were growing lighter.

When Keith opened the door, Lance stepped back in horror. Pidge stood there with a big guy in an orange and white jacket, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. The man’s sunny smile seemed to throw Keith for a loop, but had Lance desperately trying to teleport to the other side of the property as a deep sense of panic filled him.

“Hey,” said Pidge, scratching the back of their neck with an awkward smile. “This is my friend Hunk. I brought him here to bless your house.”

Keith rolled his eyes, though the corner of his mouth quirked up into an answering smile. “Really, Pidge?”

“Don’t worry,” said Hunk, his eyes full of wonder as he looked around. “You don’t have to do anything, and there’s no goats’ blood or anything involved, in case you were wondering.”

Lance grumbled. Seriously, what was it with humans and goats?

“Well, come inside.” Keith turned and headed into the living room, dropping down to talk to the little home the way he usually did to talk to Lance. “Hey, buddy, do you mind a little cleansing?”

Lance scoffed. Did he mind? There was a buzz of power around this sweet marshmallow of a guy. It prickled at his skin as Hunk entered the room. He tried to express his displeasure by changing the color of the furniture to black but nothing happened.

“Not now!” Lance tried again. Again, fucking nothing.

Unfortunately, Keith didn’t seem to sense the drama unfolding beside him. “Guess it’s okay. Go for it.”

“I’ll go change, then.” 

As Hunk went into the bathroom to change, Lance kept struggling to affect the little furniture. When he couldn’t do that, he tried making knicknacks fall. No matter what he did, he couldn’t seem to affect anything in the house, to the point that he lost his temper and tried to send dishes flying anywhere.

Nothing happened.

Nothing.

Hunk emerged from the bathroom in white robes with orange trim. He started setting out herbs and bowls for burning, and with each step the lightness in the house began to build.

“This is not good.” Lance paced. Was this the end? Would he fall into dust during the cleansing and leave Keith sad and lonely? 

Once Hunk was done, he said, “You’re welcome to follow me and watch. Just please don’t interrupt me. Don’t worry, this won’t take hours or anything.”

“Sure,” said Keith, shrugging.

As Hunk started lighting things and chanting, Lance started to itch. It started at the base of his horns and traveled to his wings, fangs, hooves, fur, and claws. The longer Hunk chanted, the more everything itched, until Lance was frantic. Yet, even his panicked energy couldn’t seem to affect anything in his surroundings, so Keith still watched the proceedings with a tilt of amusement to his lips.

“Keith!” Lance pleaded as the itching became tearing. He screamed, feeling like he was being torn apart. “Haggar! Help!”

“There’s no help for you,” chuckled a low voice.

Lotor. Lance could barely see him through the flames breaking free from his body. “Help me!”

“Nope,” said Lotor, popping the p. “Time to Fall, kiddo.”

“No! He needs me!”

“Oh, okay,” Lotor sighed, completely unaffected by the howling winds tearing Lance apart. “I’ll help you a BIT.”

Lance pleaded with broken words as the demon prince reached over. He didn’t want to leave Keith alone. Keith needed him. He needed Keith.

“See you on the other side,” said Lotor, grinning. “I look forward to seeing if you Fall yet again.”

“No!” Lance took one last look at Keith, who watched Pidge with a fond expression as they watched Hunk continue the blessing. “Keith, I lo---”

“Oh, please,” Lotor groaned, flicking the center of the malestrom near Lance’s navel. 

With one last scream, Lance shattered in an explosion of flame and motes of light.

“Fucking drama queen.” Lotor coaxed the light into a ball, not daring to touch it. “Enjoy your time together, boys. It’ll be over before you know it.”

Lotor tossed the light to Hunk, who instinctively reached out to catch it. His job done, Lotor chuckled at the so-called cleansing and returned home.

Really, what was the point of becoming mortal again? Such an infinitesimal amount of time, and for what? 

Love?

Not worth it.

###

Keith watched with curiosity as the cleansing continued. He was glad his housemate didn’t mind. It was interesting, and he did appreciate the fact that Pidge cared. In all honesty he was surprised that Shiro hadn’t done this earlier.

Everything was going smoothly until Hunk’s hand flashed out like he was catching something. The guy seemed startled and hard-pressed to continue, yet he kept going, hand remaining out like he was carrying what he caught.

Keith and Pidge shared looks as the ceremony continued. Hunk looked ridiculous holding his arm out like that as he kept going, and yet the further along things went, the more the muscles of that arm stood out like whatever he held got heavier and heavier. 

By the time Hunk finished, letting out a deep sigh, sweat was beading at his temples. “Holy heck, you’re getting heavy.” 

He knelt and laid something on the floor. Keith and Pidge looked at each other again, concerned for Hunk’s mental health, but soon enough something moved in Keith’s peripheral vision. Light wavered and warped, then started churning.

“Holy shit,” Pidge breathed, “I’ve gotta get the camera!”

They ran out of the room but Keith remained rooted. Was his housemate pleased by the cleansing? Was he getting some kind of gift?

The light exploded, soundless but blinding. Keith and Hunk both cried out, and after, Keith feared that he might be blind. It took a moment to realize that he was seeing after-images and had to wait until they cleared. 

“Keith? Pidge?” Hunk sounded on the verge of panic. “Everyone here? Oh my god, everyone better be here!”

“I’m here,” said Keith, holding his hands out a bit in case anyone threatened to stumble into him. “Pidge?”

“Jesus Christ!” they called from another room. “I got blinded all the way in here!”

There was a groan. It took Keith a moment to realize that the groan came from nearby, but didn’t sound like either Hunk or Pidge. 

“What the Hell?” a voice squeaked.

Shapes were starting to coalesce in Keith’s vision. From what he could tell, there was someone on the floor, and they were trying to get up. “Who … who are you?”

There was a pause. The figure went still. “Keith?!?!?!”

“Uh …” Keith squinted.

“Oh my god, Keith!!!!!!” The figure jumped up and grabbed him, lifting him up by the waist. “Keith, I’m human like you!”

Keith blinked rapidly, trying to clear his vision and make sense of all of this. It took a while of the guy jumping around, jostling him, before Keith finally got an impression of blue, blue eyes.

His own eyes stung. “Wait … it’s … it’s you?”

A handsome, dusky-skinned face finally became clear, with the biggest grin Keith had ever seen. 

“It’s me, Keith,” he said, blue eyes practically glowing with excitement. “I guess you really don’t need all that little furniture anymore!”

Stammering, Keith started feeling his hair, his face, his shoulders. “You’re real?”

“Holy fuck,” Pidge cackled, “you have to tell us everything … uh … what should we call you?”

The blue-eyed beauty cocked his head, eyes narrowing a moment in thought. “Lance. Call me Lance.”

They stared at each other again. Keith felt his face heat at the fond expression on Lance’s face. “Nice to meet you, Lance.”

“I feel like I just had a baby or something,” gushed Hunk. “A spirit baby!”

They all laughed, and Keith found himself pulled into a crushing hug. 

“I guess I really did Fall for you,” Lance grinned, like he was making the most awesome joke in existence.

“Uh, sure.” Keith smiled, still feeling dazed. “Me too.”

“I’m gonna change.” Hunk pointed back to the bathroom. “Then how about food?”

“Sure!” Pidge was still staring, huge-eyed, at Lance. “Uh, what do you guys want?”

“Cuban!” Lance yelled, jumping and getting excited again.

Keith and Pidge grinned. Of course he did. 

“Cuban it is,” said Keith, his face feeling like it might crack from the size of his smile. 

“Cuban it is,” echoed Lance, still not letting go of Keith’s waist.

He’d never let go.


	7. Epilogue

Hunk checked the burgers on the BBQ, then surveyed the happy first anniversary gathering before him. Shiro, Lance, Keith, and Pidge were all laughing together, teasing his girlfriend Shay. They’d claimed to meet when he’d been called in an another case, one with a much grumpier entity that needed handling. Working together, they’d supposedly put the entity to rest, and they’d been inseparable ever since. 

Somehow, Lance had integrated seamlessly into Keith’s life. Shiro had been overjoyed to meet Keith’s new boyfriend, and to never again hear about some kind of beings living in the house. Hunk had to admit, though, that Shiro still cringed whenever he looked at the little people setup in the back corner. The boys were keeping it there for nostalgia.

Pidge had eventually gotten over the fact that Lance had forgotten anything important about being a demon. He’d been absorbed into their cryptid-hunting crew, sometimes teasing them with information that may be real or may be a devilish prank. More importantly to Hunk, Pidge seemed happier now that they had a circle of friends where they fit in.

“So,” said Allura, standing beside him but staying out of sight of the mortals, “it all went well.”

“Very well,” said Coran, to her right. He smoothed out his moustache. “One big happy family.”

“Thanks for giving me this assignment, guys.” Hunk smiled at them, glad that the others were too absorbed in their conversations to notice he was talking to empty air. “It’s just what I needed.”

Coran cuffed him on the shoulder. “It’s what they needed, too. Take care of them, my boy.”

“I will.” Hunk rotated the hot dogs so they’d cook evenly. 

“I know you will.” Allura patted his other shoulder more gently. “See you later, Shay.”

Hunk looked up to see his girlfriend approaching. Her hoop earrings swayed as she waved to their visitors. “See you later, Allura. Coran.”

With a soft, tinkling sound, they both vanished. Shay leaned into his side, gazing over the group of friends. “Lance and Keith seem happy. Are you? Are you ever sorry you Fell for me?”

Hunk grinned, kissing the top of her head. “Never.”


End file.
